


Irresistable

by Zaya_Ayame



Series: Shadow Weaver Being a Ho [1]
Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: A Bit of Fluff, Angst, But Not Too Fluffy, Castaspella is a bratty bottom, Comedy too!, Dark Magic, Don't @ Me, F/F, Kissing, Lesbian Sex, Mutual Pining, Rough Kissing, Sensual Play, Shadow Weaver is a top, Teasing, Vaginal Fingering, You know they be fuckin in the forest, but like not entirely in control here hahahaha, cultural headcanons, i do love me some pining, you know she is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:08:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26738620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zaya_Ayame/pseuds/Zaya_Ayame
Summary: An excuse to write smut about Shadow Weaver and Castaspella, honestly!During their trek lead by Shadow Weaver, Castaspella tests the limitations of the dark sorceress as they take a break. One thing leads to another, and-
Relationships: Castaspella/Shadow Weaver | Light Spinner (She-Ra)
Series: Shadow Weaver Being a Ho [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1946182
Comments: 16
Kudos: 83





	Irresistable

**Author's Note:**

> Part 1 in a series of one-shots detailing our Sorceress being the 'hO' that she is. Previous or Future stories can all be read stand-alone.

When Castaspella had imagined trying to help lead the rebellion against the forces of evil – namely Hordack and Prime – she didn’t expect to be traipsing around the forest floor with the very last person on Etheria leading her heavens-knew-here! From the moment Shadow Weaver had suggested that they embark on a secret mission _alone_ , the Head Sorceress had her doubts about her intentions. It was only the hope that any respect Shadow Weaver had for Micah was the driving factor for her claims to save him from Horde Prime’s control. 

And that if anyone knew anyone about mind control – it was the manipulative witch herself. 

After tripping over the twentieth rock, and nearly ripping her cape on the gnarled branches more than a dozen times, Castaspella had finally had _enough_! Fie on the fact that, for an old woman, Shadow Weaver had stamina far beyond the expectations of her years. 

Giving a huff that would have sent her brother in a laughter, Casta stopped her momentum with a pointed stomp of her foot and called out, “This is far enough for tonight,” She commanded with a upturned bottom lip, crossing her arms with immovable intent. “We’ve been walking for hours and I am starting to think you’ve gotten us lost!” 

Once again, because Castaspella wasn’t one for long hiking, the masked sorceress stopped with a beleaguered sigh through her nose as her head tipped upward in visible annoyance. She turned to look accusingly toward Casta, “You’re only starting to think? My, how Mystacor has fallen…” The look of absolute effrontery was well worth a break for the evening, looking around at the area to appraise just how habitable it was. 

Years in the horde training her cadets while going on missions served her well; providing a wealth of knowledge that not even her life spent on Mystacor could have prepared her for. “This will have to do. I doubt Prime has tracked us, but it doesn’t hurt to be careful.” With that, Shadow Weaver threw out her hands to begin a very simple warding spell – conceptualized, cast and placed within seconds. As she turned to Castaspella, the dry words of command on her lips, she would suddenly stop in alarm at what was happening in front of her. 

With her arms crossed, sitting at the base of a massive tree, Castaspella was looking up at Shadow Weaver with an expression that the witch could hardly comprehend. Tears looked as if they might fall, her eyes clearly glistening in the ephemeral light of the fauna… but the intensity of the anger in her eyes made it clear her stubbornness would not allow them to fall. Behind the mask, Shadow Weaver’s eyes softened. 

The words came as no surprise to her, “You’re just a twisted old witch,” Castaspella seethed, hurt and resentment clear in her voice in spite of how subdued it was. “Even as Light Spinner your words have only ever been poison…” 

It was easier to remain aloof, “Whatever are you talking about? Micah was nothing less than a prodigy in my eyes and I made it clear to him many times. Could it be that-” She crossed her arms, grinning behind her mask and knowing Castaspella could tell. “No one did the same for you?”

“Wha-?! How DARE you-!” 

“So, I am correct,” Shadow Weaver crudely confirmed, walking closer as Castaspella fumed. When she stopped just before her, infringing on her personal space, she firmly stated, “Up. While I have no problem getting acquainted with the local wild-life, I’d rather not have you complain about the conditions.” She held out a hand, ever generous. 

Castaspella, ever suspicious, knocked the hand away and pushed herself up from the ground quickly, intent to stomp up and away while leaving all the work to Shadow Weaver. 

That was, until she tripped over her own attire and collided with that very same woman. Their height difference already withstanding, Castaspella would find herself pressed just below Shadow Weaver’s chest and grasping tightly to her robes as her ankle audibly cracked a few times from the odd angle. “Ugh-! Of all the-!” 

“Careful!” Shadow Weaver admonished, her previously outstretched hand holding tightly to the head magician’s waist. Upon hearing the cracks, Shadow Weaver was quick to carefully set her back upon the ground to investigate. Castaspella, biting her lip, thankfully allowed the intrusion upon her person as clawed hands moved and assessed the damage with surprising gentleness. “It’s not broken, _somehow_ , but I suppose even you couldn’t be so inept as to break your own ankle. Still,” She looked up, the enchantment on her mask making it easy to see the wicked smirk in her eyes. “You’re even _more_ useless to me now.” 

Once more, the words needled at Castaspella and she forcefully bit her tongue to refute the venomous words as heat rushed upon her face. She turned away, “Fine! Just-… Go make camp somewhere else!” Her fist clenched tightly, fighting against the darkness within herself that threatened to overtake her heart. “I’m ‘useless’, _anyway_.” 

And Shadow Weaver’s eyes widened at that, her smirk gone with a start as she cocked her head inquisitively at the woman. _What has gotten into her?_ At a loss, but unwilling to waste time, Shadow Weaver turned away with the determination to question Castaspella later. “Very well,” She accepted with dismissal. Unable to see the wretched expression on Castaspella’s face, Shadow Weaver raised her hands to the air to conjure an emergency tent from the realm of dark magic. 

One of the many advantages that came with this forbidden power was the complex but convenient use of what she could only describe as a ‘pocket dimension’. It made all of this portal business she’d heard from Hordak much easier to swallow and conceptualize. Additionally… she could safely hide away snacks from the horde.

…  
..  
.

Once the tent was successfully pitched, hardly an issue with her telekinesis and shadow to assist, the only obstacle left was to settle whatever… _this_ was between her and Castaspella before it infringed upon their potential teamwork. 

Still leaning against the tree, legs tucked up to her chest as she held them protectively, Castaspella was only aware of Shadow Weaver approaching when the dark of her shadow was cast over her. Dark eyes looked up, eyebrows knitting petulantly, “…What?” She barked, not in the mood for the witch’s teasing. 

At the attitude, said witch slowly crossed her arms and leaned down, “How… is your _ankle_?” She seemed to bite out, whatever facsimile of concern she tried to express coming across more as annoyance. 

“What do you care?” 

A deep sigh was heard through the mask, “Can you **walk** , Castaspella?” 

With a roll of her eyes, Castaspella just leaned against the tree and put pressure on her good foot, “I haven’t TRIED, just-” She leaned on her arms from behind, shuffling up the tree bark before pressing downward on the ankle. 

Immediately, pain flared up her spine as white bloomed in her vision. Before she could come to and realize what had happened, she felt as though she was… moving? With a grimace she blinked her eyes open to feel the gentle shifting and arms beneath her knees and shoulders. Before she could stop herself, Castaspella was flailing in the sorceress’ grasp – face burning hotly with embarrassment, “P-P-Put me DOWN!!” She stammered. 

Unfortunately, this only seemed to annoy Shadow Weaver as she struggled to keep the enchantress from falling on to the ground, “Enough!” She hissed, voice echoing darkly through the trees as she enhanced her volume. The effect was immediate, if a bit harsh, before she looked down at Castspella with a visibly withering expression. “You clearly could not walk. Endure a moment more and you’ll have your ‘space’,” And sure as moonshine, Castaspella was brought into the tent and settled upon a bed of impressive leaves that made for an acceptable bedroll substitute. 

For all her bluster and blushing, Castaspella realized slowly what had transpired and huffed through her nose with a pout, _I’m… I’m not going to say it. This decency is the LEAST she could do._ Even still, the words of gratitude nettled her and she was just about to begrudgingly give in when she felt cold hands on her ankle and her shoe being pulled off. Once more, mortified, Castaspella tried to pull her leg away, “WHAT are you doing now?!”

With a casual disrespect, Shadow Weaver sharply slapped her hand away, “Has it escaped your notice that your ankle hasn’t recovered? Clearly, it’s **not** a sprain,” Her tone was derisive but firm, pulling the dress up just enough to reveal a nasty discoloration as the joint appeared visibly swollen. “It’s. Out. Of place,” Shadow Weaver insisted, speaking slowly as if she were speaking to a child. 

While Castaspella had been grimacing at the injury the sentiment that she was a child at all had her suddenly snapping at the woman in front of her, “I can see that! I can heal it myself, just… I know you have a vial of the magic powder you’ve always made,” She held her hand out, expectant. “Hand it over and I’ll take care of it myself.” Surely, there would have been some form of respect for her self-sufficiency-

The soft rumble of laughter behind the mask proved that wrong. “And risk you injuring yourself more from your mediocre use of magic? I don’t think so,” She pulled the vial out, of course, but made quick work with her claw to etch out the proper runes and circle just beneath her ankle. “Perhaps on your own, you can manage a half-baked spell to get you from point A to point B, but with me…” Shadow Weaver continued to explain, holding her ankle in one hand carefully while bringing the other to activate the spell. “-There can be no mistakes. No failure. Only perfection.” 

The subsequent shine of the circle, followed soon after with relief as the ankle appeared as if it weren’t so much as nicked, had Castaspella look on in wonder – even as she knew that once again she’d been insulted and her years of hard work… questioned. 

Shifting her ankle around, Castaspella was once again at a crossroads with her morals. Ever since she was a child, Castaspella had thought of Light Spinner as a… heroine of sorts. A figure with which to throw all of her doubts away every time she looked upon the veiled woman that walked with power, grace and duty. Then, when her brother was almost taken by the Spell of Obtainment, it was as if all her dreams and aspirations had melted away with the vision of Light Spinner’s image. 

For years, she bottled up so many things she wanted to say; and everyone knew, she held no filter when it came to what she wanted to say. But with Shadow Weaver, it… was a conflict inside of a conflict. She still walked with grace, beheld power as if it were always a part of her… but duty was a far-cry from anything that resemble the dark sorceress. 

“Thank-”

“You’re w-”

Like a die was cast upon the board of fate, both women of magic looked at the other in surprise as they took in the words that were on the edge of their lips. For Shadow Weaver, it was pleasant surprise that someone – Castaspella, of all people – would thank her. For Castaspella, it was like she was in a game of cat and mouse and with her own moral compass and she was losing. Badly.

“Excuse me, what? I wasn’t going to-”

“Ah ah ah, but you _were_ , weren’t you?” Shadow Weaver latched onto this moment of weakness, the circle of habit far too tempting to pass up. From behind her mask, she was grinning like a cat that had caught the mouse and leaned over the reclining magician, “Far be it for me to stop you, _Dearest Casta_ ,” She purred huskily, leering mere inches from her face and maintaining that distance for every inch that Castaspella had leaned away. “Say the words that you’re dying to say. Just this once, I won’t even chastise you for your ambiguous slip-up,” And she did enjoy bringing mistakes to the forefront. 

Breath caught in her throat as she stared up at the mask that leered over her, Castaspella was equal parts terrified and aroused at the proximity the older woman was taking in leaps and bounds. Her heart pounded in her chest, thudding at a hummingbird’s pace. Every word was like a silken caress across her skin, followed quickly by the painful lash of a cat-o’-nine-tails. Anger broiled in her stomach along with something else she would rather chug a vial of salt than admit to its existence. 

At the final biting challenge that had her head almost swimming with carnal spitefulness, Castaspella gave into the dam of emotions and broke her vow of confliction, **“Fuck you,”** she snarled.

Shadow Weaver’s eyes widened, not expecting such crass language and certainly not expecting the rush of excitement that blind sighted her. She stared for a long while into Castaspella’s livid expression, a slow grin forming unseen, before she leaned back and away with an amused chuckle, “Now _that_ isn’t something that runs in the family,” It was a much tamer jab, but she was a woman of her word now. Standing from the make-shift bed, Shadow Weaver looked down upon Castaspella, “We leave upon the first moonlight,” Before walking out of the tent and into the wilds. 

For a long moment, just laying down while watching Shadow Weaver walk off, Castaspella wasn’t sure what to feel about the experience and… honestly, couldn’t quite come to grips with why she’d said what she said, either! _Are you mad?!_ She admonished herself, even as a brief flash of a carnal scene played out in all of one second that had her flushing red in the face. _Oh dear… I just might be._

…  
..  
.

Shadow Weaver, meanwhile, had settled upon a rather large boulder and looked up into the sky for the… fifteenth time? She’d lost count, honestly, and just allowed herself this private moment of weakness. Stars… She’d heard of them, obviously. Whispers of Astrologians of the past that derived power from them, but never believed for a moment that she’d ever see them in her lifetime.

It was humbling. Frightening. Powerful enough to change a person. 

Softly, she sighed and reached up to take the mask from her face. Placing it beside her, Shadow Weaver held a hand open to summon a small cloth from the realm of dark magic. In the privacy of her thoughts, she replaced the veil and stared skyward - silently praying like she’d done as a child. 

For twenty years she’d not dared to repeat this ritual and even residing in Brightmoon, she felt eyes upon her. Judgmental. Accusatory. Uncomfortable…

It wasn’t until moments later, hearing the sound of a twig snap behind her, that Shadow Weaver’s eyes snapped to the side – snatching her mask from the stone at her side and dispelling the veil. With a metallic ‘click’, Shadow Weaver addressed the only one responsible, “I advised you to sleep.”

From behind, obviously unwilling to obey, Castaspella looked with confusion upon her face, “You’ve been sitting here for an hour.”

“… And?” 

“You need to sleep too,” Castaspella stated as if it were the most obvious fact. It brought a smile to Shadow Weaver’s face. 

“Is that an invitation?” She teased, looking over to see Castaspella sputter brokenly, before continuing, “I am not tired. In fact, I was quite occupied until you decided to interrupt.” 

“What were you doing?” Every curious, Shadow Weaver could only shrug with a single shoulder as she spoke simply. 

“My nightly ritual,” It was only partially a lie. It _was_ her nightly ritual. Back on Mystacor. Back when hope was plentiful, and she could dispel the day’s stress with nightly escapism. She hoped it was enough to dissuade the magician from further questioning her. 

Of course, Castaspella took up an awkward seat beside her and leaned forward, trying to search her face for something. Shadow Weaver’s eyes narrowed, ready to snap with another derisive insult, when she was halted quite shocking with, “-Why do you wear a mask, Shadow Weaver?” 

It was simple enough, honestly, but it had her speechless all the same. On instinct or habit, she wasn’t sure which, the words came naturally, “Why do you insist on wearing that circle above your head?” 

Castaspella frowned, hardly charmed, but… she didn’t back off. Spending so much time with Shadow Weaver proved to be more than just a learning experience – it was tantamount to solving a mystery. Rebellious, she answered, “Because I am the Head Sorceress of Mystacor,” As if it she merely explaining the day’s weather. 

Shadow Weaver’s scoff was like a victory, “Naturally…” She drawled, looking back up into the sky. For a long moment, it seemed as though she would remain true to her silence, until… “I have scars.” Spoken so softly that Castaspella almost didn’t believe she’d said anything at all. 

“You… What?” She’d heard of the scars, of course – all of Mystacor was told of the devastating effects of the Spell of Obtainment and how it turned the caster into a monster, if they didn’t die. But she’d seen her face, and it just didn’t add up, “That’s all? You have scars?”

“What? Were you expecting something more grandiose?” Shadow Weaver chuckled, only slightly offended. “I’m sure you’ve heard what the Spell does; you’ve mentioned it multiple times already,” Shadow Weaver noted the look of guilt that came and went as quickly as a thought. “What did you expect me to tell you?”

Castaspella looked away, down at the ground, “I didn’t _expect_ anything from you. I was merely curious – that’s all.” 

“Oh? Curious about my face? Well, then,” Shadow Weaver purred, catching the magician’s attention and realizing that the witch was looking at her now. Her eyes widened as Shadow’ Weaver’s hand came up, clawed fingertips teasing at the edge. “Would you like to see?” Her voice was soft and promising, full of poison disguised as wine as she tapped the metal.

It was Castaspella who surprised them both, her own hand coming up, “Can I-?” Her finger brushed against the Shadow Weaver’s, eliciting a shocked twitch as Castaspella pulled her hand away. Between wanting to tear this opportunity from Castaspella and taking this chance to allow someone to see her face after so long… She almost felt ashamed of her lack of tenacity as she lowered her own hand. 

“If that’s what you want…” 

Suddenly, like a child lighting up at the sight of presents, Castaspella’s face bloomed with bright fascination and wonder – so much so that Shadow Weaver nearly choked at how… beautiful she looked. To be seen as something so worthy of interest and desire – how she hoped Castaspella wasn’t too easily disappointed.

She attempted to temper her elation, “I warn you-” However, even as quickly as she’d begun to speak the words, Castaspella’s hand was already upon the side of her face – nonchalantly brushing over one of her ears – while the other came up as quick as lightning and tore the mask away with such passion that Shadow Weaver hadn’t the chance to school her expression. 

Staring with determined curiosity, Castaspella was the first to see Shadow Weaver in such a surreal situation. So shocked and flustered was the witch that Castaspella didn’t even register the scarring at first – mesmerized by the deep flush across Shadow Weaver’s astonished face. For years, Castaspella had waited for this moment and, even as her eyes finally roved over every detail in Shadow Weaver’s face, she couldn’t help but feel some semblance of… accomplishment? Completion? 

As quickly as the moment came it as gone and Shadow Weaver’s face fell into a dead-panned expression, “Well, that was anti-climactic…”

“What?! I just-”

“Were you really so excited that you couldn’t have been more thematic with it?” 

“Oh, come on!” 

And still, neither had noticed or frankly cared that Castaspella’s hand… lingered on the side of Shadow Weaver’s face. Only when a short silence spanned between them did the witch arch an expectant brow, the twitch of a smirk on her lips. It brought to light Castaspella’s current hand location and she hesitantly pulled her hand away, regretful the moment she realized she missed an opportunity. 

To do what, she wasn’t sure, but now that she could see what none had hardly seen – her heart was beating so quickly that it felt as if she were under a spell, “You… Why do you hide this?”

“My face?” Shadow Weaver laughed, “It’s ugly. It doesn’t take a genius to-”

“Are you serious?” 

“… What?” Shadow Weaver’s eyes narrowed, challenged and yet intrigued all the same. Castaspella realized with a dangerous level of calm that she liked seeing this new range of emotion on her face. It was like an addiction, wrought on by a novel experience. “Explain.”

“You-” _-look beautiful._ Castaspella realized too late that she was falling into a trap. “You don’t look that bad,” She saved, happy to have hidden at least a small piece of her dignity somewhere. Still, she couldn’t help the small crack in her defenses as Shadow Weaver cocked an eyebrow at her disbelievingly. 

Thankfully, she didn’t pursue it, reaching for the mask, “You’ve had your fun, then-” 

Only to have Castaspella holding it out of reach, “Not so fast!” She suddenly argued, taking a heady delight in Shadow Weaver’s eyes widening. “One more thing…”

“What _now_?” She was beginning to regret being so generous. 

Another longer-than-normal moment stretched on before Castaspella spoke her desire with all the volume of a mosquito, “…your ears.”

Shadow Weaver couldn’t have gotten so old that her hearing was bad, “What?” 

“C-Can I touch your ears?”

 _What in all of Etheria-?_ Face now certainly burning from the request and quite visible for Castaspella to see, Shadow Weaver just scoffed and leaned away while crossing her arms. “You already did.”

“No, I-! That didn’t count!” 

“That’s not my problem,” Shadow Weaver looked away with smug satisfaction.

“Do you want your mask back or not?” 

“Oh? Are you really so bold as to hold something of mine at ransom?” 

“Would you like to find out?” And there it was, a confidence that Castaspella could really get used to as she grinned at the witch and saw with growing satisfaction that she finally – after years of fantasizing about it… rendered the immutable sorceress speechless. 

Shadow Weaver clearly underestimated her and, for once, didn’t mind that fact. “… You’re much more ambitious than I gave you credit for, Castaspella…”

Said Magician tried to ignore the way her name fell from Shadow Weaver’s lips so gently. Tried to ignore the rush of desire that came with praise she’d waited years to receive. Silently and with shame, Castaspella gloated victory over her brother, even if for something so shallow and taboo. 

“About time you noticed,” She lowered her arm, placing the mask safely away under her robes before she held both arms up with her hands outstretched, “Now. May I-?” Her fingers twitched with impatience, a wry little smile on her face as Shadow Weaver merely released a sigh from her nose, shoulders slackening with defeat. 

“Go ahead,” And she tried not to sound so enthusiastic for the contact, closing her eyes for good measure. 

Grinning with eyes practically shimmering with delight, Castaspella slowly moved forward so as to not ruin the moment and savor this self-indulgent (and fulfilling) wish. Palms up, she gently brought her fingertips to graze the skin just under the ears – nearly flinching away as they _twitched_ from the feather-light contact. “S-Sorry,” She blurted out, receiving a smirk in exchange. 

“Nervous?” Shadow Weaver taunted, ignoring the fact that her own face was burning with heat and Castaspella could clearly see that. 

“Ugh,” She scoffed, before using the taunt as motivation to firmly press her fingers around the ears and rub her thumbs down the upper lobes. Shadow Weaver, meanwhile, was biting her tongue to keep the moan of pleasure that threatened to escape. For every gentle movement of fingertips behind her ears, she would swallow and tense her jaw to keep her voice from betraying her enjoyment. 

It wasn’t a stretch to admit she’d missed physical contact. 

Castaspella’s lips were parted just ever so much, her eyes trying to take in each and every small change on the woman’s face as she rubbed her thumbs along the lobes and behind the ears. They moved so fluidly up and down and even occasionally she could feel the muscles move beneath her hands, “Does this… feel good?” 

Shadow Weaver cracked an eye open, “Do you really want the answer to that?” 

“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t,” Castaspella retorted, growing more bold around Shadow Weaver. It didn’t go unnoticed by the dark sorceress. 

“… Yes. It,” She paused, suppressing a shudder as Castaspella moved her fingers to rub the inner lobe with her thumbs and this time – she couldn’t stop the soft groan that escaped her. In her lap, her fists clenched tightly, “It feels rapturous.” 

“Oh?” Once more, Castaspella was reminded just how addicting this was and couldn’t help the little smirk on her face as she leaned closer and moved her hands down torturously slow. “What about… this?” She grazed painted nails down the sides of her neck until she was reverently caressing the skin of her angular jaw. “Are you always so sensitive?”

Shadow Weaver was trying to breathe calmly through her nose, heart pounding within her chest as jolts of what felt like electricity raced up and down her spine. At the question, her hands opened in her lap to fist at her robes – resisting her own urges. “If I tell you ‘yes’, will you cease this inane line of questioning?” Her voice was deeper than normal, husky and barely contained. 

Castaspella liked the effect she was having on her, “But what if I… don’t?” 

For just a brief moment, easily missed, Castaspella could wear she saw something of red flash in the Demon woman’s eyes and the fear that rushed through her wasn’t entirely unfavorable. It was like dancing just out of reach of a chained panther, the desire to touch almost overriding the healthy fear that this predator could rip her into pieces. Yet, knowing this, Castaspella was equally as intoxicated by this power she had over the power-hungry sorceress. 

Shadow Weaver, of course, wasn’t one to mince words or shield anyone from the truth.

 _”I would hope that you’ve come prepared to face the consequences, then,_ ” And with an almost feral glint to her eye, Shadow Weaver lifted one of her hands to the bold magician; claws on display intimidatingly as she spoke with dark promise and a timbre that would make lesser men melt, “You would take the risk of these claws upon your skin?” 

Just as Castaspella held her head in her hands, Shadow mirrored the action only centimeters from her own - moving a lock of hair behind her ear as she grazed the back of her sharp knuckles against the tops of her ear. “Dark magic - _my_ magic – upon you… _within you_ ,” Castaspella felt more than heard the rumble of desire in Shadow Weaver’s voice and swallowed. “My tongue and lips-”

 _Say less,_ Castaspella would think, surging forward to crush her lips against the sorceress’ and finally seal the deal. Her hands impatiently smoothed along Shadow Weaver’s neck, one gliding into her hair through the tresses and pulling her down in her mouth while the other made scratched trails across the back of her shoulder. 

And Shadow Weaver didn’t bother with reverence as she opened her mouth to the searing kiss and raked her claws into Castaspella’s hairline – her other hand coming up to wrap around the head sorceress’ waist and press her robed curves against her own. Pressing closer, lifting her higher to the boulder’s height and even going to far as to firmly smooth her hand over her shapely ass before lifting Castaspella to properly straddle her hips. 

In the kiss, igniting a surge of desire within Shadow Weaver, Castaspella gasped and breathed between them, “N-Not-… losing your patience, are you?” Before her lips were captured again, practically having a physical altercation with Shadow Weaver as she responded with hardly any care. 

“This,” She began before the sound of lips connecting again interrupted her, “-entire debacle,” Another, louder, smack of lips but this time she actually parted to set a blazing trail along Castaspella’s jaw, “-has been a test of patience.” Warm breath assaulted Castaspella’s neck as Shadow Weaver nipped downward in tameless delight. She grinned against her skin, the taste of huckleberry jam sweet on her tongue, “We’re far beyond that, now.” 

Castaspella’s head was swimming with clouded thoughts that most certainly didn’t mind the statement; she was just worried that the moment would be ruined when her robes prevented-

**R-r…iiiiiiiiiip!**

Her eyes snapped open, feeling cool air on her now exposed thigh and pulling back to squawk indignantly in Shadow Weaver’s darkened expression, ignoring the half-exposed tongue that had been interrupted from its work, “Did you just-?!” 

Shadow Weaver narrowed her eyes, tongue returning to her mouth, “Don’t start complaining over a rip in your robe now, _Castaspella_ ,” She moved closer, tone biting and scornful as she eased her head next to Castaspella’s ear, “-or are you so inept at magic that you lack the ability to cast a simple mending spell?” 

While her stomach did slips and somersaults, Castaspella didn’t want to relinquish her hold over her power so quickly, “I am _very_ capable! I’m just surprised you can’t keep your hands off me,” In the wake of the sharp nips she could feel upon her ears, no doubt Shadow Weaver enacting some form of revenge, Castaspella was empowered to match blow for blow. “Have you been thinking about this before?” She questioned with a bratty little coo to her voice, the hand in Shadow Weaver’s hair gently running through it before she clenched her fist and pulled. 

The effect was immediate… and jarring. 

At the same time that Shadow Weaver felt the icy-hot stab of pain surging through her scalp and straight to her cunt, Castaspella was slapped in the face with a wonton lust upon feeling the pin-prick of sharper than expected canines dragging along the skin of her neck with conflicting pain. It was in these moments that all of their memories would prove to be a blur in regard to the next few moments. 

Castaspella remembered bits of pieces; her back slamming on the ground and knocking the breath from her. Lips that desperately sought out her own, messily moving along any stretch of skin to try and sate some unquenchable thirst. The warmth of her robe missing in patches as nails cut and slit away the obstructive cloth with all the accuracy of a tactician. 

And then came the magic; terrifying and arousing all at once as she felt dozens of hands upon her stroking, prodding, caressing and giving appreciative scratches as if she were the prey in a den of predators. Whatever gasps and grunts that escaped between her lips were quickly smothered in the wet heat of Shadow Weaver’s – a tongue quickly coming into the mix to make good on her promise. 

She hadn’t even gotten to the part where words that dripped with carnal desire seemed to echo from around her; clearly the voice of her current lover, even as her lips were very much occupied. 

**I have taken part in travesties beyond your comprehension…**

She felt forces pull her arms above her, held together as a familiar clawed hand slowly traced up one of her arms to lock her wrists into place. She could feel the trickle of blood as of Shadow Weaver’s claws nicked at her wrist in warning not to struggle.

**Bent and broken hundreds to my will by my magic ALONE…**

Something tugged between what was left of her robe, sliding along her sides, stomach and chest until she could feel herself become so light-headed from the overstimulation that she couldn’t stop the uncontrollable trembling of her thighs. 

**I will show you the darkness of twilight. Ravage you in the light of the moon! And by the end of this night…**

A ragged gasp was pulled from her, desperate for breath and nearly coming apart at the seams as the corporeal evidence of a hand came down to the apex of her thighs. Still clothed, Castaspella could feel talented fingertips dancing over her clit, terrifying and teasing the sorceress that knew full well the capabilities of the claws attached. Already, she was so close and they’d barely done anything at all!

 **You will come to know the dark of the shadows, Castaspella… and you’ll yearn for nothing else but the high I can give you…**

Cracking open her eyes to the world around her, Castaspella was hazily aware of the tendrils of darkness surrounding them – only the gentle sway of the trees above her evidence that she wasn’t entirely swathed in the witches’ shadows. Another moan was pulled from her, lips parting just enough from their ravenous kisses to breathe in the taste of Shadow Weaver’s breath. “Casta…” She keened, the echo of her threats around them previously shattered in contrast to the desperate plea in her voice. 

For a stark moment as Castaspella felt herself come apart, their eyes met – smoldering dark with supernatural red – as an unspoken agreement between the two of them seemed to be made. 

It wouldn’t last. Wouldn’t work out.  


> Shadow Weaver was too many locked doors with keys either lost to the years or simply forgotten in the layers of lies and deception she carried like a shield. Castaspella was a wound ignored and repressed for far too long; the in-direct fault being the woman she felt those very same conflictions with. 

But for tonight, on the eve of the world ending…  
They could have this, at least.

“Sh… Shadow-” Castaspella whined, uncomfortably aware that the shades and her own hand had slowed to a torturous stop and shifted beneath Shadow Weaver’s hand to try and find that delicious friction again. 

It made the sorceress grin, a hint of her fangs peaking through her scarred lips, “Aw… is this,” She moved her fingers against her, reveling in the movement of the sorceress’ hips rolling upwards to meet her hand, “-what you want?” Gently, she eased another kiss against her face, just on the corner of her lips as she whispered against her, “Do you want _me_?” 

_Oh god, why is this turning me on so much?!_ Castaspella agonized, hands clenching above her head as she pulled impulsively against her. Shadow Weaver crooned, a soft ‘tsk’ing sound against her neck as she peppered hot wet kisses down the expanse of skin. 

“Now, now; none of that. Or I just might…” 

She pulled her hand away, taking devilish delight in the frustrated cry that vibrated through the very throat she imbibed upon. “Oh, you don’t like that, do you?” 

“Damn you,” Castaspella snarled, hips shifting and body alight with agony as she tried to chase that feeling, “Hgn… I’ve always-Hahn! -expected you to be _insufferable_ , but that's low e-even for you!.”

“Oh, my dearest Castaspella,” Shadow Weaver chuckled against her, grazing her hand over the sensitive folds between her thighs just before cutting away at the undergarments with precision care. Bites, kisses and nips trailed up Castaspella’s neck as she marked her properly, reaching the shell of her ear and rumbling with decadent intent, “- _nothing_ is too low for me.”

And she took great care to show just how honest she was, her fingers coaxing the sorceress open to feel the wet evidence of her enjoyment. She teased at her skin and moved slowly, calculatingly, against her – making sure to crook her finger as just the right angle. At her neck, she could feel the blood surging through Castaspella’s pulse, “What a deceptive sorceress you are; aroused and wet at the hands of your greatest enemy? Oh, but,” Shadow Weaver leaned back, preferring to look her lover in the eyes as she cast her dark spell of rapture, “-you never stood a chance against me to begin with… have you, Casta?” 

“You-… fffngH! You fuck-AHGN!” Castaspella was cut short as the simultaneous stimulation of her pussy and shadow hands that slinked and sensually rubbed overwhelmed her beyond words. Painfully, to keep as much sense possible, she bit upon her lip.

“Language!” Shadow Weaver admonished her, laughing in her face as she thrust her fingers within her relentlessly, rubbing over the tender bundle of nerves inside. Leaning forward to press her forehead against Castaspella’s, she purred with deceptive kindness, “Are you nearly there? Have you… earned this?” She moved a thumb over the hooded clit, adding an extra layer of pressure before grinning wildly at the pleading look she received. It was a high like no other, beyond what she’d ever hoped in the last decades of abstinence. At once, she needed to hear the words of surrender, “Say the words, Casta…” Shadow Weaver commanded in barely hidden desperation, her own words breathy with need.

“Y-You… I-” Castaspella struggled, resisting the plea as she struggled with her pride. Two forces pulled against her, threatening to infringe upon her being. She wanted to push against the woman that held her on a pleasurable precipice… but her body wished only to fall into that abyss the sorceress was offering and let go of her inhibitions. For a few intense moments, nearly sobbing with need and conflict, Castaspella opened up her eyes to gaze into Shadow Weaver’s – tears falling to the edges of her face as she bravely whispered with courage, “Please… Light-”

Shadow Weaver’s eyes widened, the spell broken, as she gasped helplessly in the wake of shock. Against her will, she could feel a sudden pierce of emotion rush through her chest and straight into her soul – years of being Shadow Weaver, of latching onto the dark of her self-personified power had made her forget how much she missed her old name. Her old life. A simpler, more mundane, life of magic, tea and… and her students. 

Unsettled emotions and the sexual charge of the situation at hand, Shadow Weaver inadvertently felt another wave of desire rush over her as she released a shuddered breath she didn’t realize she held, _That’s not fair… You cheated._ And in the only way she knew how to express it – Shadow Weaver responded in kind. 

Her magic intensified, the pace of her fingers buried deeply within Castaspella’s pussy as she bared her teeth in a mix of hate and devotion, “How dare you…” The sound of Casta’s cries echoed through the forest floor, her own wetness dripping down her thighs and upon her tatters of her robe and the grass below but Shadow Weaver did not relent. “You would dare say that name-” She released her hold over Castaspella’s wrists, deciding to instead drag her claws down her arms slowly and painfully to raise red welts in revenge as she approached her own emotionally-charges high. 

Through all of this, Castaspella was beyond the comprehension of words, fruitlessly lost in the wildly cresting waves of her rushing orgasm as Shadow Weaver played her body like a well-practiced instrument. She groaned, writhing beneath her before she realized her arms were free and - unable to feel the pain of the paper-thin cuts - threw her arms around Shadow Weaver’s neck to yank her lips against her own. 

Hands tangled and pulled against hair, grasped yearnfully at skin and clothing until even Shadow Weaver’s high-collared robe was pulled to expose her neck to the world. With every desperate and bruising kiss, Shadow Weaver didn’t let up in her ministrations – even as she felt the tremble of the inner walls clench around her fingers. 

She drank in the pleasured screams as if they were magic made sound.  
She took and took and took while she gave – only slowing the movements of her hand when it felt as though Castaspella would faint in her arms. 

Parting for a moment was difficult, their mouth disconnecting for hardly a second before they leaned forward against each other again and audibly made-out in the afterglow of their coupling. This continued on for a few more passionate moments, just enjoying the closeness and heat of each other's body before it was Castaspella that broke the silence. 

Still catching her breath, she smiled against Shadow Weaver’s lips, “That was… incredible,” And she meant it, even as her arms throbbed with dull pain and her clit was still sensitive from being rubbed raw in the moment. She winced as the cuts brushed against Shadow Weaver’s hair, ignoring it as best she could to enjoy the moment. “-a bit rough, weren’t you?” 

Shadow Weaver, having finally grasped hold of her own lucidity, raised a brow down at her in thinly veiled disappointment, "Too much for you to handle? Unsurprising, but then," She licked her lips, "I might have expected as such from you." To hear her old name in the heat of the moment on Castaspella’s lips was an unexpected turn and it proved to ruin her carefully crafted control. She hated and loved that this lackluster magician had any power over her, but would take to the grave any confession of guilt. 

For a moment, the familiar sting of insult washed over Castaspella before she gave a smirk, “Oh, don't be so sure. I'm the Head Sorceress of Mystacor for a _reason_ and you'd best not forget it!” And the grin she gave was nearly capable of throwing Shadow Weaver right back into the conflicted mess of arousal, her eyes widening as she looked down upon the surprising magician. With self-control tempered over years, Shadow Weaver managed to just chuckle with impressed amusement. 

“Duly noted. I’ll do better next time,” And she would leave it at that, bringing up her hand from below to begin a sensual show of cleaning it of Castaspella’s release. 

And laughing like a pair of teenage girls when Castaspella shrieked in amused disgust, “Don’t DO that!”

For the rest of the night, their tent forgotten in favor of the cool grass and gentle breeze, the two would take solace in the other for the time being. Sometimes they would converse, tease one another, and even argue until silence reigned once more between them. When the moonlight peaked and dawn broke, they would both struggle to wake – clearly not having gotten much more than a few hours of sleep. 

No surprise why. 

As they rubbed the sleep from their eyes, memories still a bit fuzzy as the morning dawn pulled them from their slumber, Shadow Weaver would be the first to rise and begin a summarized version of her morning abulations. Castaspella, meanwhile, would struggle here and there to get back into the groove of the world before being the first to speak between them - looking for the starlight crown she'd misplaced, "Shadow, do you know where-?"

Unseen, preparing the tent, Shadow Weaver's eyes would widen at the shorthand of her name before turning her head to Castaspella. Her tone booked no argument, "Stop."

Castaspella paused, interrupted, before she had to blink the surprise away, "Wh- Stop what?"

Shadow Weaver stood up, every bit the authoritative figure she'd made herself out to be in the horde, "That. Let me make this clear to you, Castaspella," She walked over, calmly but unwavering in her convictions as she leered over Castaspella, "What happened last night is going to stay in that moment. We are, from here on... the same as before."

Castaspella gawked, hurt and more than a little disoriented by the turnabout but too stubborn to show it, "What? Is your cold exterior too important to risk even a _little_ vulnerability?"

Shadow Weaver's eyes narrowed, vicious in her rationale, "I will risk _nothing_ on the premise of ONE encounter. Enjoy the time we had together, but it stays. There." Before having the audacity to cross her arms, looking down upon Castaspella - stinking with disapproval.

up at Shadow Weaver, speechless at just how... cavalier she was, it made the sorceress wonder just deeply did the Shadow Weaver's own issue ran. She was no stranger to disappointment, but with how raw and open their experience was last night - perhaps she'd misunderstood the signs. Briefly, she closed her eyes and hardened her heart, "... You're right. Etheria is more important." She looked up, imagining the expression Shadow Weaver would have as she finished, "Micah is more important."

"You understand. Good," And there it was, almost imperceptable as Shadow Weaver turned away, "We've much time to make up for."

There was something there. A softness. A determination that Castaspella didn't think existed. Duty.

…  
..  
.

Once camp was packed away and their clothes mended, Shadow Weaver was taking the last pains to make certain that their session carried no evidence to speak of. Carefully, she trailed a hand wielding a healing spell across the cuts in Castaspella’s arms and when all was finished, the head sorceress would bring her sleeves back down. Already, Shadow Weaver had replaced her mask and… in spite of their agreements, Castaspella had hoped she would have left it off while they were alone. 

She didn’t hesitate to ask, considering their new closeness, “Can’t you keep it off for a while?”

“Hm?”

“The mask; just… until we return to the rebel camp.” 

The sigh was infuriating to Castaspella, but filled the air about them with amusement, “You really are quite persistent, aren’t you?”

“Please?” Castaspella ventured, boldly diminishing the distance between them as she slung one arm around the sorceress’ waist and the other to nudge at the emotive barrier. Shadow Weaver’s eyes narrowed, resisting, until she felt her shoulders relax and give a small nod. 

“Until we reach Mystacor.”

Castaspella smiled, suddenly annoying chipper as she grasped the mask and pulled it off to reveal Shadow Weaver’s unamused face, “Deal! Lead on, Light.”

The disgusted groan that came from Shadow Weaver was more than reward for Castaspella.


End file.
